More Than That
by gilmorefanforever
Summary: You don't own me!" Booth jumps to Brennan's defense at dinner one night, and Brennan is less than happy about it. What she doesn't realize is that he's so protective of her because she's more than just a partner to him. BB Oneshot.


More Than That

**Disclaimer:** I was very disappointed not to find the Bones rights under my tree this year. Maybe in '09…

This is another one of those out of nowhere fics, where I just started typing and words came out. Although I did get a lot of help from Dreana! So this is dedicated to her, I suppose.

**--**

Stupid. That's what he was. Really, really stupid. He had been his whole life. When he was ten, he climbed a tree and fell out, breaking an arm and a leg. At fifteen, he went to a party and drank enough spiked punch that he was throwing up for days. At nineteen, he snuck into Amanda Reed's bedroom... Thank God her father had dropped the breaking and entering charges. But despite all this, this topped the list. Booth had really blown it this time.

He slammed his breaks, pulling into a spot in the Jeffersonian parking lot. This could be fixed, he tried to convince himself. He had to fix it. When he ran into the Medico-Legal Lab, Angela immediately spotted him and pointed behind her.

"She's in her office." Booth thanked her and ran in that direction, but stopped at Angela's voice. "What the hell did you do?"

He shook his head. There wasn't time to explain. Instead of answering, he continued his way to Brennan's office, stopping at the door and knocking. Silence. A turn of the knob told him that the door was locked. "Bones! Come on! I'm sorry!"

More silence.

"Temperance Brennan," he tried again. "If you don't open the door, I will break it down."

He waited a moment, then cursed. He had really been hoping that one would work. Frustrated, he leaned against the door. "Bones... please. Talk to me. Or let me talk. You can just listen! I just... need to talk to you about this. I screwed up, okay? I screwed up, I know you're mad, and I'm sorry! Let me explain."

There was a clicking of a lock, and Booth moved away from the door, watching carefully as his partner's face appeared in the small crack of the opening door. "I'm listening," she said.

He sighed. "Can I come inside?"

Without a word, she opened the door more and walked away from it, which Booth took as an invitation. He sat down on her couch next to her, and began. "Look, Bones—"

"You had no right," Brennan cut him off. He was surprised. So much for just listening.

"I know I didn't—"

"_No _right," she repeated.

"I'm sorry!" He looked her in the eye. "But the way that guy was looking at you… The way he was talking about you? Bones, I couldn't take it."

"That doesn't matter, Booth! I can take care of myself!"

"Can you really? Because you sure as hell weren't doing anything about what's-his-name!"

"Mark," she corrected. "I wasn't doing anything about _Mark_. Whose name you would know if you ever listened to a word I said!"

Booth did listen. He had been listening for nearly a month as Brennan went on and on about Mark the defense attorney, who she had met at a party her publisher had made her attend. He knew he should have insisted he go with her to that thing. Mark possessed all the traits Booth hated—he came from money, he helped rotten men escape prison, which basically meant that he was his exact opposite.

And he was dating Bones.

Despite knowing that there was no chance of liking him, Booth agreed to meet Mark. After all, it sounded like Brennan really liked him, and that was all that was important, right? And so began the dinner from hell.

Mark liked to talk about himself. A lot. After an hour of listening to him ramble on and on about his car—which Booth usually would have found fascinating, but Mark made him want to drill a hole in his head—his house, and some of his more successful cases, Booth had started tuning him out, focusing instead on his food. Suddenly, he took notice of Mark's words again.

He was talking about Brennan.

_He's describing his sexual prowess_, Brennan's voice chipped in his mind, _the need to brag is a common trait for men of power_. Mark talked about how beautiful "his girl" was, and how smart. How accomplished. Booth found himself incredulous. Did this guy think he didn't realize how amazing Bones was? Not to mention that he was leaving out some of the more important traits, like passionate, determined…

"And she's a _killer_ in bed," Mark finished with a laugh.

That was it. The guy had bugged him before, but those six words sent Booth over the edge. How dare he talk about her like that! And before he knew what he was doing, his fist was against the guy's face. Then he stormed out of the restaurant.

Brennan was close behind, and when she caught up with him, she was livid. "Booth! What's wrong with you?"

Booth spun on his heel. "What's wrong with me? Bones, were you listening to that guy?"

"Yes! And I heard nothing that would provoke you to—"

"Bones, he was talking about you like you were an object! I know you. There is no way that didn't make you angry!"

"Maybe his wording was… questionable."

"Questionable?" He scoffed. "Look, Bones. The guy is a jerk."

"He's not!"

"Yes he is!" Booth shouted, clearly startling her. "He's a jerk, and dammit Temperance, he is _not_ good enough for you!"

Brennan replied more calmly than Booth. "You obviously don't know me as well as you think you do."

Booth stood there dumbly for a moment, not saying anything. Finally: "Maybe I don't." And he walked away from her.

When he woke up the next morning, Booth realized what he had done, and immediately drove to the Jeffersonian, which brought his thoughts back to the present, where Brennan was once again livid with him.

"Well, _Mark_ deserved what he got," he told her, crossing his arms.

"Booth, you broke his nose!"

He laughed. "Really? Good."

"No, not good!"

"Yes, Bones. Very good. In fact, it would have been nice if I had broken a few other things as well…"

"I'm not sure where you got the idea that you were my bodyguard, but I'm going to stop you right now. You have no control over my personal life, Booth. We are friends." Her voice turned deadly serious. "You do not own me."

"You're my partner," he told her simply. "It's my job to protect you."

"At work," she corrected him, her voice and expression softening. "It is your job to keep me safe at work, and even then I can take care of myself. Outside of work—"

"You're still worth so much more than that guy realizes," Booth finished for her.

She turned away. "Don't say that, Booth. I can't hear you say that."

Booth brushed his knuckles against her cheek, turning her head back to him. "Why's that?"

"Because then I might think that we're more than—" She stopped herself.

"More than what?" he asked.

Brennan shook her head and turned away again. "It doesn't matter, because we're not."

It happened in a flash. One second she was turned away, the next Booth had pulled her to him, and his lips were on hers. She responded almost immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and his hand knotted through her hair. Then he pulled away.

"Does _that_ make you think we're more than that, Bones?"

She whimpered in response, unable to form a real answer.

"Because," Booth continued, speaking with more confidence than he was actually feeling. "That Mark guy was not good enough for you, but if you gave me a chance…" He exhaled slowly. "I think I could be."

Brennan nodded slowly. "I concur. Which is why I broke up with Mark shortly after you left."

Booth's face gradually broke out into a smile as he processed what she was saying. "Good."

Brennan grinned back at him. "Very good."

Booth pulled her back to him, and their lips met once again, this time slower. When they broke apart, their foreheads leaned together, and Brennan breathlessly repeated, "You don't own me."

Booth laughed. "Believe me, Bones. I know."

**--**

I guess that's it. This will probably be my last post of this year, so happy new year, everyone!

I'd love to hear what you think!


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